


In This White House

by extasiswings



Series: In This White House [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Bisexual Male Character, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Slow Build, West Wing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you know about Steve Rogers?”</p><p>“Former artist turned military man turned lawyer turned senator from New York,” Darcy says slowly. “People on the Hill like to call him Captain America. I’m also fairly certain he’s running for President.” </p><p>“He is. He has a small team at the moment. Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Foggy, me…and you, if you want it.”</p><p>The White House. Press Secretary to the President of the United States should they make it through the next year and a half. It’s the best job she ever could have wanted, working with the best people she could ever want to work with, and she’s sitting here, pulse racing, mind whirling in a thousand directions, and she doesn’t know. It’s the best job and she doesn’t know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This White House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuofthewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuofthewind/gifts).



> I have absolutely no excuse for this other than the fact that I am trash. If you've seen The West Wing, this vaguely follows the line of "What Kind Of Day Has It Been"/"In The Shadow Of Two Gunmen." If you haven't, I think it should still mostly make sense. I took a fair amount of liberties. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings for gun violence and non-explicit descriptions of blood.

Virginia, October 2014

 

“That went well,” Matt says quietly from Darcy’s side as they exit the auditorium and head towards the cars, leaving the rope line for President Rogers.

“Well?” Darcy nudges him in the side and grins when he jumps. “Come on, grumpy. He was amazing in there, everything that went wrong today worked itself out, and now we get to go home happy. I think that deserves a bit more celebration than “That went well.””

“I’m not grumpy, just cautious. He’s always been a hit with college students. Make what happened in there happen at the Leadership Breakfast and then I’ll get excited.”

“You think too much. Live a little, Matt,” she teases. “Come on, give me a smile. You’ve earned some joy today.”

He ducks his head and laughs and her grin widens—

Gunshots.

A scream.

Darcy feels hands on her waist and then she hits the ground hard just before a second round of gunfire rings out. Her eyes are closed and her neck stings and she feels sick to her stomach and she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe because there are still shots being fired and Jesus Christ, she was laughing with Matt five seconds ago how is this happening, why is this—

Something falls to the ground next to her so she forces her eyes open only to see Matt with bloodstained hands pressed to his side, his face white from either shock or blood loss or both.

(Hands on her waist and Matt had been the only one close enough to have pushed her down and of course he did that without thinking about himself, of course because he’s so goddamn selfless all the time but he got _shot_ )

She screams.

“Oh God, Matt. Matt, Jesus, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be fine, just hold on, hold on, please, for me, hold on—” She hardly even knows what she’s saying, but she’s babbling as she pushes his hands out of the way to keep pressure on the wound herself because he doesn’t need to be expending that effort right now.

The gunfire stops and the ambulances arrive and an EMT tries to pull her away from Matt with, “Ma’am, we’ll take it from here,” and, “You’re in shock, ma’am, let us check you out,” but she shakes her head and fights back and in the end they just take her with them in the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital is a blur. She barely remembers any of it, but when they arrive, the doctors take him into surgery and shuffle her into a room to be looked at.

(When she finally sits down she has to put her head between her knees to steady herself because there’s a tightness in her chest that won’t go away and they were all shot at tonight and she doesn’t know how the President is and her best friend is in surgery and she can’t _breathe_ )

 

_Columbia University, 1995_

_“Is this seat taken?” Darcy looks up from her desk and shakes her head, only to notice the white cane in the boy’s hand._

_“Uh, no. Not at all. Feel free.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_“I’m Darcy, by the way,” she adds after a moment. “Darcy Lewis.”_

_“Matt Murdock.”_

_She waits until he seems settled in his seat before speaking again. “So, Spanish. You here for your major or just to fulfill the foreign language requirement?”_

_There’s a beat of silence and she wonders if she’s bothering him, but then he turns in his seat to face her._

_“The latter. I’m a criminal justice major,” he replies._

_“I thought about doing that,” she admits. “Went with poli-sci instead.”_

_Matt makes a face, but she’s pretty sure he’s only teasing because he smiles when he says, “Well, there’s still time to change your mind.”_

_“Oh, boy’s got jokes,” she snarks in response. “Still time for you to change your mind, too. You can be a lawyer just as easily with a poli-sci degree.”_

_He laughs and ducks his head and she absolutely does not think it’s adorable._

_“What makes you think I want to be a lawyer?”_

_“You’re a criminal justice major.”_

_The teacher starts class, but neither of them are paying attention. The syllabus is still being passed around and Darcy can already speak Spanish so she’s pretty sure missing the first few minutes isn’t going to do her any harm._

_“Should I take that to mean you don’t want to be a lawyer then?” Matt asks, lowering his voice so it’s not quite as obvious they aren’t paying attention._

_“All it means is that I kind of want to go into politics and I haven’t figured out which way I’d like to do that yet,” she explains. Matt makes another face, though this one is more indecipherable._

_“What? Do you have something against politics?”_

_“The idea of politics, no,” he acknowledges. “The way the system works right now? I’d sooner stay away from it. Good for you though, wanting to take that on.”_

_“Well, I’m a big believer in exacting change from the inside. If enough people are willing to stand up and get out and vote, if we could get people to run for office who actually want to do good instead of accumulating power, maybe real change could be made. I want to be a part of making something like that happen.”_

_Darcy pauses once she’s done with her mini-rant and flushes, somewhat embarrassed that she hadn’t gone with a simpler answer, but when she looks over, Matt is smiling._

_“That sounds like a really nice dream,” he says._

_“I like to think so.”_

 

“Darcy? Darce, you okay?” She looks up from her scattered briefing notes and over to Foggy where he’s standing in the doorway of her office.

 

(She’d left the hospital an hour ago after being cleared, intending to go straight to the briefing room and deal with the press corps, but she ended up having to wait for Kate to run to her apartment and grab fresh clothes for her after Foggy had pointed out her blouse had blood on it.)

(Matt’s blood, not hers, and he’s in surgery for who knows how long and she has a job to do but god, she can’t, she can’t)

“Yeah, Foggy,” she sighs. “As okay as any of us are.”

He looks like he wants to say something sympathetic or hug her or something, but she’s glad he doesn’t because she’s not entirely sure that wouldn’t just break her.

“The press are waiting whenever you’re ready,” he says instead and she pushes herself off the couch because _she can do this, dammit_.

“I’m ready.”

Stepping into the briefing room is a shock to the system because it’s a cacophony of lights and people shouting questions and her name and once she reaches the podium, Darcy puts her hands up and waits for silence.

“Good evening everyone,” she starts calmly. “As I’m sure you’re all well aware, tonight at around 9:08 PM a shooting occurred in Rosslyn, Virginia as President Rogers was leaving a Town Hall meeting. At this time, I will not be releasing any information about the shooters. Yes, the President was shot, however, I have been informed his injuries were fairly superficial and non-surgical. His primary physician and other members of his medical team will be made available in a few hours for debriefing. It is my understanding that he should be released from the hospital soon pending some scans. In the meantime, Vice President Wilson has assumed his duties as per the 25th Amendment. Yes, Ian?”

“AP is saying that two bodies were brought out of the office across the street and that there is a manhunt underway for a possible third accomplice on the ground. Can you confirm?” The reporter asks.

“I don’t have any information for you on that,” she replies. “As I was saying—”

“Sorry, Darcy, can you tell us why AP knows more than you do about this?”

“I don’t think they do, I think they’re just willing to tell you more than I am.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us? About the shooters? About what happened? You were there after all.”

Darcy freezes, screams echoing in the back of her mind. Unconsciously, her hand rises to her neck, to the scratch left by her missing necklace.

“Darcy?”

She clears her throat and shuffles her papers. “Um. What was the question?”

“Is there anything you can tell us about what happened?”

“Right. Um. No. What I will say is that we do not currently have a final injury count, but Communications Director Matthew Murdock is undergoing surgery to repair damage caused by a shot to the chest. His condition is critical and the surgery is expected to last upwards of eight hours. I’ll be back for another briefing in an hour.”

Her vision swims as she steps into the hallway and she has to put a hand against the wall to steady herself.

“You touched your neck.”

She jumps. “Jesus, Kate, don’t sneak up on people.”

“Sorry.” In fairness, Kate does look genuinely apologetic. “You touched your neck in the briefing. I was concerned.”

“Yeah, I—I lost my necklace. I think Matt pushed me down and it just—I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can do the rest of the briefings if you want to go back to hospital. Or go home and get some rest. Either way, I can do it,” the other woman offers.

Darcy shakes her head. “No, I—thank you, but I need to work right now.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, which doesn’t do much for the spinning thoughts in Darcy’s head, but she thinks she might have preferred the quiet when Kate asks, “Is he going to be okay?”

“The President? He’ll be fine,” Darcy replies, knowing full well that wasn’t who Kate was referring to.

“Matt. Is Matt going to be okay?”

The tightness in her chest increases and everything feels like too much. She swallows hard and blinks back the moisture gathering in her eyes (whether from fear or anger or some combination of the two) and decidedly doesn’t look at her assistant.

“I don’t know,” she answers finally. Her tone is curt, matter-of-fact, and she hates that saying those words feels like she’s tearing something out of herself. She was numb twenty minutes ago. She thinks she preferred the numbness.

“Hold my calls unless they’re from Natasha, Foggy, or Bucky. I just need—” _Five minutes, an hour, twelve hours._

“You got it, boss.”

Darcy closes the door to her office and leans against it, her eyes sliding shut as she tries to get herself back in order again.

 

 

_Los Angeles, California, 2011_

 

_“Darcy, there’s someone here to see you.”_

_“Here to see me? Do they have an appointment?”_

_“No, but—”_

_“But what, Cassie? I’m only here for another week and then Stark needs me back in D.C. I have a schedule to keep. I don’t have time for random drop-ins,” Darcy replies, not looking up from her computer screen._

_“How about for old friends?” The voice is familiar enough to make Darcy freeze. When she looks up, sure enough, Matt Murdock is standing in her doorway with a smile on his lips that makes her stomach flip and Cassie is looking between the two of them with uncertainty._

_“Matt! Oh my God, you loser, what the hell are you doing here?” Darcy asks as she crosses the room and pulls him into a hug._

_“Came to see you.”_

_“Really,” she questions dryly, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “After twelve years of my being in California and the two of us only ever seeing one another in D.C. you just happened to come all the way to the West Coast to see me.”_

_“Yeah. That sounds about right,” he replies, clearly not planning on being any more forthcoming in her office. “Can I take you to lunch or would that get in the way of your schedule?” His voice is far too amused, but she can’t seem to stop smiling._

_She looks over at her assistant._

_“Cassie, cancel my appointments for the rest of the day,” she instructs before turning back to him. “There. Now I’m all yours.”_

_“I’m a lucky man then,” he teases._

_“You’re damn right.”_

_Darcy loops her arm through his and leads him out of the office and out to the street._

_“So. What’s the real reason you’re here?” She asks once they’re a few blocks away._

_“I told you, to see you,” Matt replies._

_“Well, yes, but why?”_

_He’s quiet for a moment as they cross the street, but finally he answers. “Came to offer you a job.”_

_Darcy blinks. “I…have a job. It’s a pretty great job, in fact. Press Secretary for the Speaker of the House isn’t exactly something to sneeze at.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Then—I don’t—why would you think I would want to leave my current job?”_

_“Because I’m offering you a better one.”_

_And that…that’s just ridiculous, wholly ridiculous, because she works for Tony Stark, the Speaker of the House, one of the most important people in Washington, so if he’s offering her a “better” job then… They pass a small park and Darcy pulls him over to a bench instead of continuing on to a restaurant because seriously, this is not a conversation to be had while walking._

_“Matt?”_

_“What do you know about Steve Rogers?”_

_“Former artist turned military man turned lawyer turned senator from New York,” she says slowly. “People on the Hill like to call him Captain America. I’m also fairly certain he’s running for President.”_

_“He is. He has a small team at the moment. Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Foggy, me…and you, if you want it.”_

_For the first time since he showed up in her office he starts looking nervous. She’s not being intentionally difficult, she just really doesn’t know what to say._

_“Steve Rogers wants me,” she says, more to test the words than anything._

_“He’s very impressed with your work and he wants you to be his Press Secretary for the campaign and then after the election.”_

_“He’s not impressed with my work, Natasha Romanoff is impressed with my work and Jesus, Matt, just…”_

_“Darcy,” he interrupts, setting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s the White House.”_

_The White House. Press Secretary to the President of the United States should they make it through the next year and a half. It’s the best job she ever could have wanted, working with the best people she could ever want to work with, and she’s sitting here, pulse racing, mind whirling in a thousand directions, and she doesn’t know. It’s the best job and she doesn’t know._

_“I have a job,” she repeats weakly. “It’s a great job.”_

_“And I’m sure if we lose, Stark will take you back in a heartbeat. Next objection?”_

_“I’ve never run a national campaign before, how about that one?”_

_Matt’s lips quirk up again and she almost wants to shove him because she hates that he’s amused by this._

_“It’s graduation day, Lewis.”_

_Darcy leans back against the bench, staring out at nothing as she bites her lip and imagines it for a moment._

_“Darcy—”_

_“Is he a good man?”_

_It’s Matt’s turn to pause in surprise. “I—yes.”_

_She considers that, wets her lips and says, “Tony Stark is a good man, too. He’s a good man and he’s doing good work and—”_

_“And he’s never going to run for President,” Matt points out._

_“And he’s never going to run for President,” she echoes with a sigh._

_“Darcy—”He squeezes her shoulder again and she turns her head back to him. “The first day we met you told me you wanted to be a part of something. That you wanted to go into politics to support change, to be part of making things happen. Now me, I took a little while to get on board with that idea, but I did and I’m sitting here now telling you that Steve Rogers is the real thing. This is a chance to make a real difference. Just…think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”_

_“Okay. Okay, I’ll—I’ll think about it.”_

_She accepts the next day and is on a plane to New Hampshire before the reality of her decision hits her. If she bursts into hysterical laughter somewhere over Michigan, well, none of her new coworkers are there to judge her._

 

 

The night drags on and into morning and Darcy gets closer and closer to snapping with every briefing. She hasn't been able to make herself go back to the hospital ~~\--~~ she can sit in her office and wait just as easily as she could in a hospital waiting room ~~\--~~ but her nerves fray more the longer Matt's surgery stretches on.

Foggy disappears for a while and returns with her necklace (the necklace Matt gave her fifteen years ago that she wears more than any other piece of jewelry she owns) and the clasp is broken but should be fixable. She stares at it for a long time and blinks hard when Foggy puts his hand on her shoulder and tells her he's going back to the hospital because she is not going to cry, dammit. She is not.

At 4:30 she gets a call that the National Guard has caught up to the final man involved in the shooting which is great because it means that she has more information to give her clamoring crowd of reporters, but also isn't because it means she has to spend longer in the press room actually answering questions.

When her cellphone rings she answers it without thinking because only so many people have her cell number so it's a) more likely to be someone she won't mind talking to and/or b) probably important.

"Darcy Lewis."

"Lewis," a familiar voice greets. "Hey, kid. How are you holding up?"

"Tony." His voice is soft and comforting and she's only somewhat embarrassed when her planned _fine_ comes out as a sob.

"Yeah. That's about what I figured," he says, and she can't stop herself from beginning to cry in earnest.

"Hey. Hey, Lewis. Darcy. It's going to be okay." If it were any other situation she might laugh because of how uncomfortable he sounds despite having expected this. He's never been great at heavy emotions, although she's always thought he's better at it than he thinks he is.

"He pushed me down," she shares once she's pulled herself together enough to be somewhat coherent. "He pushed me down and he got shot and God, Tony, if he dies..."

"He's not going to die."

"You don't—"

"I do. That man is too damn stubborn to be done in by a gunshot by some homophobic white supremacist. He's not going to die."

“He might.”

_He might and he’ll never know that I’ve been in love with him for years because I never told him, never said a word, but—_

Tony sighs. “When’s he supposed to be out of surgery?”

“Another couple of hours,” Darcy replies, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. God, she’s tired.

“He’ll be fine,” he assures again. “He’ll wake up and you’ll call him any number of names and he won’t mind because you’re okay and he’s nothing if not completely in love with you and both of you will move forward. Maybe you’ll even tell him and realize the world won’t end when you do.”

Darcy snorts in spite of herself. “Is that how it worked out with you and Pepper?”

“It was somewhat less dramatic than shootings and hospitals, but on the whole world not ending part? Definitely.”

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

“I’ll consider it,” she allows. “But, honestly—”

“Darcy?” Kate’s at her door and her voice is apologetic but firm. “Natasha’s on the line for you.”

“Sorry, Tony. I have to go,” she sighs.

“Duty calls. I get it,” he replies. “Hang in there, kid. You’re doing fine.”

He hangs up before she can say another word and she only pauses for a moment before crossing to her desk to pick up her office line. “I’m here, what’s up?”

“You’re so close to the edge that I’m fairly certain you’re going to kill a reporter the next time you go in to give a briefing,” Natasha says in lieu of a greeting. “So I’m giving you two options. You can either go home and get some sleep or come back to the hospital and wait here, but either way I don’t want you in the press room for at least six hours. Clear?”

“I—” Darcy only gets that far before her voice gives out and she can’t think of a response.

Natasha’s tone gentles in a way Darcy’s only heard on rare occasions.

“It’s not a criticism. You’ve done some excellent work on what’s been an incredibly difficult night, but you need a break. Kate can handle this for the next few hours and if you try to argue with me, I’ll put the President on the phone and he’ll tell you that too.”

Well. There really isn’t anything to say to that, is there? Darcy wants to argue, wants to rage, wants to yell and scream and tell her off for fucking benching her right now like she’s some green rookie and not the goddamn Press Secretary…but she doesn’t. If she thinks about it enough she has to admit that the fact that Natasha is the Chief of Staff is only part of the reason.

“I’ll come back to the hospital then,” she finally replies.

“There’s a car already waiting for you.”

“Nat…thank you.”

“Of course.”

The problem with going to the hospital is that Darcy’s never been particularly good at waiting.

(It’s better than her apartment because at least in the waiting room she’s not alone, but not by much)

Foggy’s slumped in a chair next to her, one arm slung over the back of her seat, and eventually she gives into the temptation to rest her head on his shoulder. He shifts a little to make her more comfortable and when his fingers start to play with the ends of her hair it’s only a matter of minutes before she’s asleep.

And then she dreams.

 

_Ohio, June 2012_

_“Ms. Lewis, what do you say to those critics who are claiming Senator Rogers selected Congressman Wilson as his running-mate only to secure the minority vote?”_

_Darcy knows she really shouldn’t laugh but she can’t hold back a smile at least. It’s not a stupid question, but it’s a little ridiculous it has to be asked._

_“Well, Rick. I think if you look at every news poll that’s been taken over the past six months, you’ll find that Senator Rogers already had far more support among minority voters than any other candidate. And I think you’ll also find that the implication that Sam Wilson was selected for any other reason than that he is incredibly qualified is fantastically offensive to both men. So, let’s just leave that shall we? Next?”_

 

_“Nice work,” Matt says once they’ve stepped off the bus and are headed into their hotel._

_“He says, as if I ever do bad work,” Darcy teases in response._

_“And to think, a year ago you were trying to talk me out of giving you this job because you hadn’t worked on a national campaign before.”_

_“They aren’t exactly giving me the most difficult questions in the world,” she replies. “It helps that he’s a fairly low-maintenance candidate. Also, he has some halfway decent writing staff.”_

_“Oh really?”_

_“Yeah. Foggy and some other guy. Although I’m not so sure what that one does.”_

_She can tell Matt’s fighting a smile and she grins in victory._

_“I don’t know. I think he probably writes some speeches. Just a guess,” he replies._

_“Nah. Pretty sure he just hangs around looking grumpy and stressed out,” she shoots back, and there, then he’s laughing and she loops her arm through his and doesn’t let go until they reach the conference room and hear, “What’s next?”_

 

_Columbia University, 1999_

 

_Darcy sits on the couch in Matt and Foggy’s apartment, staring off into space as she turns a piece of paper over in her hands. When the door opens, it pulls her focus._

_“Hey,” she greets as Matt drops his keys in the bowl by the door. “I used my key. Hope you don’t mind.”_

_“Of course not. That’s what it’s for,” he replies, moving over to the couch and sitting down just a short ways away from her. She bites her lip and looks down at the paper, swallowing hard as she tries to think of something to say. Matt must be able to tell how tense she is just from proximity because he reaches out and sets his hand on the back of her wrist._

_“What’s wrong?” In lieu of answer, she hands him the paper. His brows furrow and she sees him blink in surprise behind his glasses._

_“What is this?”_

_“It’s an acceptance letter,” Darcy replies, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt since they can’t worry the paper any longer._

_“An acceptance—” A wide smile breaks over his lips. “Darcy, that’s—”_

_“It’s an acceptance to the graduate Communications program at U.C. Berkeley,” she clarifies._

_Matt goes quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his tone is indecipherable._

_“In California.”_

_“That is where the University of California schools tend to exist, yes.” It’s snarkier than she intended, but she’s been nervous about this all day and snark is a pretty good defense mechanism._

_It’s not that she thinks either he or Foggy are going to be upset, just confused. And understandably so. She took the LSAT with them, applied to law schools with them, and when she applied for a Communications program on the other side of the country, well, she didn’t tell them._

_(She may not know exactly what she wants to do beyond “politics” but she’s pretty sure despite what she’s been telling them and herself that she doesn’t want to be a lawyer)_

_“You’re going.” Matt’s voice is quiet, but it’s not a question._

_There are a lot of things going through her mind. ‘Come with me’ and ‘Tell me to stay,’ are two of the top choices, with ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ coming in close thirds. But she can’t. They’re graduating in a month and he’s going to Columbia Law with Foggy and that’s what he’s meant to do and she just told him she wants to move to the other side of the country which isn’t going to make maintaining their friendship easy let alone anything else, even if he felt the same (which she isn’t sure he does regardless of what Foggy says) and it’s just…not the right time for any of it._

_“I’m going,” Darcy acknowledges, and it’s ridiculous, but she finds herself blinking back tears._

_(It’s ridiculous because she knows this is right, that this is the offer she is meant to take, but at the same time she’s leaving her best friends, the two people she really doesn’t want to have to live without)_

_“You know Foggy’s going to throw you the most over-the-top going away party ever, right?” It’s so far from what she expects him to say, but when she looks up, there’s a small smile on his lips and she can’t help but hug him because what else really is there?_

_“Don’t worry about us,” Matt murmurs against her hair once she’s wrapped her arms around his neck and her face is pressed against his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. And you’re going to be brilliant. Of that I have no doubt.”_

_And honestly, what else should she do but take that to heart?_

 

_The White House, 2013_

 

_“Our talent is somewhere in this building. We just need to find it again,” Matt sighs. He’s sitting on Darcy’s couch while she’s at her desk prepping for her morning briefing._

_“By ‘our’ you mean yours and Foggy’s, right? Because last I checked, my talent was not only present but glorious to behold.”_

_He snorts and she mentally checks off “Make Matt Laugh” on her list for the day._

_“Yes, I mean, mine and Foggy’s.”_

_“You want to know what I think?” She asks, not looking up from the papers in front of her._

_“What?”_

_“You should have taken that job with the White House Counsel’s Office when Nat offered it to you. Then you wouldn’t be having this problem.”_

_He gives her a dirty look and she thinks it’s supposed to be intimidating but really it’s just cute._

_“Okay, okay,” she laughs. “Look, you’re just having an off week. You’ll get back on track. In the meantime, I have a briefing.”_

_She pushes back from her desk and starts towards her door._

_“Darcy,” Matt calls after her and she stops in the doorway and looks back at him. “The interview about the thing?”_

_“Yeah, I worked it out with the networks. No cameras, just wires. It’s all ready to go.”_

_“They…agreed to that?” He looks like Christmas just came early and she can’t help the slow grin that turns up her lips._

_“You want to make out with me right now, don’t you?”_

_“Well, when don’t I?” He replies, his voice low and silky, and she feels heat rise in her cheeks._

_(Sometimes, just sometimes, she regrets this casual flirtation they have going because it’s light and fun and doesn’t mean anything, except sometimes he’ll say something like that and she’ll kick herself because she really shouldn’t let herself imagine these things when they’re never going to happen)_

_Darcy clears her throat and sends up a silent thanks that her voice is steady when she speaks again. “Told you I was talented. Anyway.”_

_“You have a briefing.”_

_“Yup. See you later.”_

 

 

“Darcy. Darcy, wake up.” Darcy blinks several times to clear her vision. Her head is fuzzy from sleep, her neck sore from her awkward positioning, but she ignores all of that because if Foggy’s waking her up then—

“What’s going on?” She asks, her voice rough from disuse. Foggy looks as tired as Darcy imagines she does, but when she asks the question he smiles.

“Matt’s out of surgery,” he says. “He’s going to be fine.”

Her throat closes up from the wave of emotion that crashes into her and she ends up hiding her face in her friend’s shoulder as he gently strokes her back.

“He’s going to be fine,” Foggy repeats, shifting in his seat to hug her tighter. “He’s waking up now. The President is with him.”

“Can we see him?”

“Yeah, of course.” He doesn’t comment when Darcy pulls away and wipes at her eyes, although his look rather watery as well so she knows he really doesn’t care.

“Let’s go then,” she says, slipping out of her seat and holding a hand out to him. There’s a small part of her that wants to run back to her office (it’s just easier) but she pushes that aside.

When they get to Matt’s hospital room, they’re just in time to see President Rogers, with his arm in a sling, clap Matt gently on one shoulder.

“Get some rest,” he instructs before stepping back from the bed. “I’ll leave you to your friends.” He nods at Darcy and Foggy on his way out of the room and his smile is just knowing enough to make her stomach twist.

“Darcy?” Matt rasps from the bed, and suddenly she can’t decide if she wants to kiss him or kill him herself. She’s a mess of relief and anger intertwined because how dare he, how dare he protect her, how dare he risk himself, how dare he almost leave her, how dare—

She’s at his bedside before she even thinks about crossing the room and she grips his hand as tightly as she dares.

“Goddamn you,” she breathes, pressing her forehead to his. “I swear to God, Matthew Murdock, if you ever do anything like that again—just—goddamn you.”

His lips quirk up and he brings his free hand to her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly over the line of her cheekbone.

“Worth it,” he murmurs.

“Worth—no,” she sputters. “No. You do not get to risk yourself like that. You do not get to die.”

“I didn’t. And you’re okay. So…worked out ‘s far as I’m concerned.”

Darcy closes her eyes and his thumb brushes away the tears that spill over when she does.

“Hey. I’m okay,” Matt sighs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re damn right. I won’t let you,” she replies. It’s as close to what she really wants to say as she’ll let herself get to and for how she’s feeling at the moment, it’s close enough.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

His laugh is barely more than a huff of air but she counts it anyway.

“So you’ve said.”

Foggy comes over then and Darcy steps back from the bed, grabbing a chair from the corner of the room and pulling it over so she can sit. She stays for the next several hours, even when Matt’s asleep and wouldn’t know any better whether she was there or not. It’s enough.

 

 

_Washington D.C, 2006_

 

_Darcy glances down at her watch, counting the minutes until she can escape the soul-sucking ego-fest that is this fundraiser. It isn’t all bad; some of the speeches were actually honest and refreshing instead of standard election year money-grabs. The majority of them though. Ugh. She’s about to give up and duck out early and screw the consequences when she catches sight of a familiar profile._

_“Matt?” She thinks for a moment she might be seeing things because as far as she knows there is no reason whatsoever for him to be in Washington, but then his head turns towards her and her breath catches because it is him and she’s never been so pleased to see a familiar face._

_“Darcy?” She laughs and for possibly the first time all night her smile is genuine._

_“Since when are you in D.C?” She asks._

_“A couple years now on and off,” he admits. She smacks his shoulder lightly and shakes her head._

_“A couple of years? And at no point in the numerous phone calls and emails we’ve exchanged during that time did you think to mention this?”_

_He ducks his head and one of his hands comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I forgot?”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“I’ve been working as a speechwriter mostly,” he offers. “Some of the candidates are more secretive than others.”_

_“You write anything for tonight?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_Darcy sorts through the night’s speeches in her mind, now considering them more carefully, searching for the syntax she’d grown very familiar with years before. When it clicks she freezes._

_“You did not write Trish Walker’s speech,” she says slowly. “You did not.”_

_Matt shrugs, but his lips quirk up in a way that tells her he’s pleased she figured it out._

_“Shut up,” she breathes. “Matt. That was amazing. Seriously, that was you?”_

_“It wasn’t just me,” he deflects. “The Congresswoman has an excellent team already. Jessica Jones, Malcolm Ducasse…they had it half-written long before I got to it, but they got hit with that terrible flu that’s going around so I got called in. It’s really…it’s not a big deal.”_

_“Matt. It’s a huge deal. You know what—” Darcy glances down at her watch again and bites her lip. “I was about to ditch this thing and head home, but I could really go for coffee and some fries right about now. Want to join me? You know, unless you have things to stick around for.”_

_He’s shaking his head before she even finishes her last sentence._

_“No, I’d love that. I can leave.”_

_“Good.” She looks him over and laughs again. “God, it’s good to see you.”_

_“You too. Or, well…”_

_“I know what you meant.”_

 

 

Life goes on. Matt’s out of the office while he recovers which only serves to highlight what a pain in the ass he can be when he doesn’t have work to keep him occupied. He calls multiple times a day just in the first week, which finally prompts Natasha to tell him to cut it out or she’ll tell the assistants not to let him through anymore. Darcy visits him on her way home every day and tries to keep him informed enough that he won’t feel quite so useless.

(She’s always there after the end of official visiting hours, but the hospital staff love her so whatever)

“How’s the patient today, Nurse Temple?” She asks when she breezes through the door.

“A royal pain in my ass, Ms. Lewis,” Claire replies, glancing over from the bed where she’s standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding a small paper cup full of pills.

“So, no different from usual then.”

Matt huffs. “I’m right here, you know,” he says. “And I’m blind, not deaf.”

Darcy hums and tries not to laugh. “Stop terrorizing the hospital staff and maybe we’ll stop talking about you like you aren’t here.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he argues.

Darcy rolls her eyes and walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress when Claire steps out of the way.

“Matt, you are probably the worst patient on this floor. Bedrest while recovering from a bullet wound is not cruel and unusual punishment. Claire?”

The nurse passes over the cup of pills. “He’s been arguing with me for the past fifteen minutes, but you’re welcome to try.”

“He’ll take them.”

“I’m not five,” Matt grumbles.

“Then stop acting like it.”

Darcy’s almost positive he can hear the grin in her voice because he makes a face at her.

“I want to go home. More than that, I want to go back to work.”

“And yet here you are lying in bed refusing to take your meds when taking them might give the doctors a reason to think you can be trusted to go home,” she points out.

“They make me tired.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that since you probably haven’t slept more than five hours a night for the past four years at least, a little extra sleep isn’t going to hurt you. Also you’re, you know, recovering from a gunshot wound and emergency surgery so the sleepiness might have less to do with the meds and more with your body wanting you to rest so it can fix itself. Just a guess.”

Matt makes another face but he reaches out for the pills and when she hands them over, he swallows them down with a few sips of water.

“Happy?”

“Extremely.”

“I don’t think I deserve judgment from someone who mixed up psychics and physicists this morning,” he remarks. There’s no heat in it though so she knows he’s just teasing.

Darcy shrugs. “At least I didn’t set the press off on a tangent about the President’s secret plan to fight inflation.”

“You’re never going to forgive Bucky for that one, are you?”

“Oh, I forgave him ages ago. That being said, he’s still banned from my press room for forever and a day and I reserve the right to mock him about it for the rest of eternity.”

Matt laughs and closes his eyes as he lays back against his pillows and she reaches for his closest hand, threading her fingers through his. A long moment passes and she starts to wonder if he’s fallen asleep when he speaks again.

“You’ll stay?”

She squeezes his hand. “Of course.”

“When I wake up you can tell me about that woman who kicked Foggy’s ass on Capitol Beat this morning and how I can find her and shake her hand.”

“Her name is Marci Stahl and you might get that opportunity sooner than you think,” she replies. “Natasha’s offering her a job in the Counsel’s office.”

“Bet Foggy will love that.”

“Without a doubt.”

He’s out like a light a few minutes later. She doesn’t let go of his hand.

(She tells herself it doesn’t mean anything)

 

 

_Election Day, 2012_

 

_Darcy kisses him once, just once, in the chaos after the election has been called for Senator Rogers, high on adrenaline and excitement. The room is loud and packed with people and when Matt slips outside, she follows him. She finds him on the hotel balcony, a small smile on his lips, face relaxed in a way she so rarely sees._

_“We did it,” she murmurs, pulling her shawl tighter around her arms to fight the chill in the air as she steps into his space._

_“We did,” he acknowledges, one arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders and tuck her into his side._

_“You coming back inside to hear that victory speech you wrote?” Matt hums noncommittally and turns his head in her direction._

_“It’s just a speech.”_

_“Just a speech, he says,” Darcy teases._

_“There will be a lot more of them over the next four years,” he points out._

_“Well, yeah. But you should still celebrate this one.”_

_His face changes into something indecipherable and she tilts her head to the side as she considers him._

_“Matt…you are happy about this, right?”_

_“Of course,” he says. “Just…everything we know is going to change. It closes a lot of doors.”_

_“Not everything,” she replies. “You’ll still have Foggy. You’ll still have me. You’ll always have me.”_

_(It’s more than she meant to say, but she doesn’t regret it)_

_“Will I?” His face is much closer than before, close enough to make her breath catch. Darcy swallows hard as her fingers curl into the front of his shirt._

_“Yes. Always,” she murmurs, and then his lips are on hers and she’s not entirely sure who moved first, but after seventeen years she really couldn’t care less._

_The kiss is sweet and tentative until her teeth catch his lower lip, and then it’s anything but. Then her back is against the wall and his hands are in her hair and when his tongue tangles with hers it pulls a sound from the back of her throat, something high and desperate—_

_A door slams in the hallway and they break apart, both breathing heavily. Matt’s mouth is stained with her lipstick and the sight makes her shiver._

_“I—”_

_“You should go back,” he says, raking a hand through his hair as he turns away from her. “I’ll be there in a little while.”_

_Closes a lot of doors. Oh._

_“Right,” Darcy agrees. “I should. I’ll, um. I’ll see you in there.”_

_When Matt returns to the party minutes later, he seems utterly unruffled, enough to make her wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing._

_They don’t talk about it._

 

 

They lose the Senate in the midterm elections, but not the House, which means that at least things aren’t as bad as they could be. Foggy grumbles and Bucky stalks around the office with a black cloud of rage over his head for the next week, growling at anyone who gets in the way (“It was hard enough getting anything progressive through a Democratic majority, what the hell are we supposed to do now?”), but Natasha just shrugs and says, “That’s politics,” and moves on.

Matt’s out of the hospital by then, so instead of spending nights in his hospital room, Darcy spends at least half the week on his couch instead of going back to her apartment after work. At first she tells herself that it’s just so he won’t be stuck all alone and climbing the walls, but after the first week, she admits that it’s really nice just spending time with him again outside of the office.

Darcy does a lot of thinking in the weeks after the shooting. She thinks about college, about the path her life has gone down, about the campaign and the first couple of years in the White House. She thinks about Matt, about their friendship, about that kiss on Election Night…and then she thinks about Natasha and Bucky and their relationship that is just about the best kept secret in Washington except for those who know them well and she wonders.

And then, two days before Matt’s scheduled to come back to work, Natasha corners her in her office.

“He’s not your boss.” Darcy jumps at the unexpected voice and looks up from her desk to see Natasha standing in her doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s not your boss,” Natasha repeats. “James is, I am, the President is, but despite the fact that your positions overlap, Matthew is not your boss. So if it’s ethics that’s holding you back from telling him how you feel, stop worrying about it.”

Darcy opens her mouth, then closes it again without speaking, at least in part because she’s really confused about the fact that this conversation is actually happening.

“What about the optics?” She finally counters.

“What about them? You’ve been friends for almost twenty years, feelings grow. Besides, everyone in Washington knows how the two of you feel. It’s not like it’ll be a big shock.”

“The administration—”

“Came back from a Catholic president coming out as bisexual on national television,” Natasha interrupts. “Trust me, after that? The Press Secretary dating the Communications Director is not going to matter.”

She leaves without another word and Darcy stares after her in stunned silence for a solid three minutes.

“Right. Okay.”

She doesn’t go to Matt’s that night.

The next day though, Darcy finds herself walking the path to his apartment after work without even planning it. When she arrives, she pauses outside the door, her fingers running over the edges of the key he’d given her when he first moved in. She knocks for once instead of using it, her stomach twisting in knots.

“Who is it?” Matt calls through the door.

“It’s me,” she replies. The door opens a moment later and she steps past him into the apartment, ignoring the curious look on his face.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” he says after a beat of silence.

“I wasn’t planning to, but…changed my mind I guess.”

Darcy takes her scarf off, only to twist it around her hands. _This was a terrible idea_ , she thinks.

“Everything okay?” Matt hasn’t moved from the entryway, but the look on his face is now more concern than curiosity.

_Yes. No. Maybe._

“Do you remember very much about the shooting?” She asks.

His eyebrows raise and it’s obvious that was the last thing he expected her to say. He doesn’t dismiss it though. Instead, it looks as if he actually seriously considers it before responding.

“I remember you screaming,” he admits. “I remember sirens and gunfire and you telling me I was going to be okay. And then I blacked out until after the surgery.”

Darcy nods. She bites her lip.

“Darcy—”

“I wouldn’t leave,” she cuts off. “When the EMTs wanted to take you to the hospital, they couldn’t pull me away. They finally let me come because they didn’t want to waste any more time.”

“Darce—”

“I almost fell apart in the middle of a briefing because my necklace was gone. Because a necklace you gave me was gone and you were in surgery. I almost couldn’t do my job. Kate offered to step in and then after several more hours, Natasha made her step in. Told me I could either go home or go to the hospital but I wasn’t going back into the briefing room.”

Matt doesn’t try to interrupt again, but there’s a dawning realization on his face when she glances over before continuing.

“I just—you got shot. You got shot, Matt. You pushed me out of the way and you got shot and that can’t happen again, okay? That can’t happen. Because goddammit, I need you. I can’t lose you. Not like that, not ever. I can’t—”

Darcy breaks off and exhales heavily, closing her eyes and bracing herself for whatever might come next.

“Is it my turn?”

She clears her throat and opens her eyes, only to see him standing far closer than he was before, wearing the same smile he’d had on Election Night.

“What?”

“You’ve said a lot of things,” Matt replies. “And I was just wondering if it’s my turn to say something yet.”

“Um. Go ahead.”

“I can’t lose you either,” he says. “I need you, too. Partly because you’re one of only two people I consider to be my best friends, but mostly because I’ve been in love with you for nineteen years, three months, and six days. And I’m really hoping that’s what you were working up to saying in that speech there.”

_I’ve been in love with you for nineteen years, three months, and six days._

“You’re kind of an asshole, do you know that?” Darcy remarks when she’s recovered her voice enough to speak.

“You certainly tell me often enough.” Matt’s grinning now and it’s contagious, even though she also feels a lot like crying. The emotional overload is very real.

“Did Natasha talk to you?”

“You mean did she call me yesterday and tell me that if I didn’t, and I quote, “pull my head out of my ass,” she would reassign me to the Counsel’s office and then there really wouldn’t be an ethics question? Yeah, she did.”

Darcy considers that for a moment and then gives up. Their coworkers may be jerks sometimes, but she can’t deny they have their best interests at heart. Without a second thought, she steps forward and curls her fingers into Matt’s shirt, sighing when he slides a hand into her hair.

“I love you,” she murmurs finally, her words muffled by his chest. She thinks he gets the idea though because in the next moment he tips her head up and kisses her, and it’s so much better than Election Night if only because neither one of them is going to run away afterwards.

When Matt breaks the kiss, he stays close, forehead pressed to hers as if he’s afraid letting her go would turn this into a dream.

“So,” Darcy says, breaking the peaceful silence between them after a moment. “What’s next?”

“Whatever we want,” he replies. Then he’s kissing her again and nothing else really matters.

They can figure out everything else in the morning.


End file.
